Thursday, May 29, 2008

CHAPTER TWO


Skeletons in the Closet

Now that I had unglued myself from Little Red’s seat, it was merriment all around with hugs to share and tales to tell, especially regaling the mountain climb we had just had. Wanda, Linda, Darrell and Jack had all come a different way, the easier way. Doyle and I were alone in our white-knuckle misery, but not for long. Plans were made to make sure EVERYONE on that mountain took OUR trip the next day.

Rita had not arrived yet, but she moseyed along near dark, coming the same way Doyle and I had come. Of course, she had to call the cabin as well to find out how to get unglued from the loop she found herself stuck on! When I asked her about her trip up the mountain, she lowered her head toward me and gave me a look that said everything I needed to hear!

Maybe this is the point where I should tell you about the family attending this reunion.

The family comes from this area of the very mountains we were visiting, but on the Virginia side, in a small place called ‘Clintwood.’ (Dickinson county) The mountains are really no stranger to us as most had spent many of their younger years in them. Darrell and I had missed out on mountain life as the family had moved to the Fredericksburg area by the time we came along, however we visited the mountains a lot as children and young adults.

In the time frame and area where my family lived a good portion of their young days, life was different and very old. There were no tv’s, and phones and cars were few. You produced what you ate, lived off the land and did what you had to do to make it. Doctors were scarce and work opportunities were limited. You either moved elsewhere or had the option of working a coal mine. Life was not only different, but very hard. They survived it, Darrell and I survived the latter, and we can still all get together and laugh about our life as one unit, a family.
It’s a large family, a total of 9 with several of us having already crossed over to what lies ahead of this world. Time seems to move at a much faster rate nowadays, so the seven that are left didn’t want to see it get away from us before it was too late. Thus the reason for this reunion.
So let me introduce you to my family, the cast of characters for the stories ahead, and trust me, some of us are characters. (well maybe all) I’ll put them in order of age, it may be easier to remember them that way.

The first born was Jack, the storyteller. Jack can spin yarns out of thin air and can make you laugh with the telling of each one. The funny thing about Jack’s stories is they are all true. He’s gathered them over the years and keeps them stored in his memory. As the oldest, we have started calling Jack the ‘Grand Pooh-Bah'. Jack did grow up in these mountains, along with two other brothers Charles and Roger, whom have both gone on. When they were children, Roger and Charles liked to listen to the radio show “The Lone Ranger”. I guess Jack didn’t care for it, or he was just being a boy and teasing his brothers, but before the show would start, he’d sneak in the house and pull the fuse box, take it outside and climb a tree to hide in so they couldn’t listen to it. Jack, always looking for a story line. He sings and plays music; guitar, banjo and once in a while, I’ve seen him pick up a fiddle.

Then comes Rita, the first girl.
Rita too grew up in the mountains. She is now a retired school bus driver who drove kids of all ages to and from school for more then 20 years. (I think I’d have gone nuts way before then, but she did it) After retirement she continued to work with children by volunteering in the school system up until last year and still volunteers at the Eagles Club for the children’s functions. Rita told me once about her ‘mud pie’ adventures when she was a child. She loved to make mud pies, mixing the dirt with the water, patting them out nice and round, pretending to bake them. Rita took her mud pie making seriously though, she ate her pies. She said she loved the way the ‘grit’ felt between her teeth. So Rita, our mud pie maker, ate dirt. She can really say “I ate dirt as a child” and be telling the truth!

Next in line is Linda.
Linda can make whatever she puts her mind to, especially with yarn. She can take a crochet needle to hand and reproduce whatever you like. If you go shopping with Linda and see a beautiful baby sweater, she’ll tell you, 'I can make that in a few hours'… and she can. She has, through the years provided many sweater sets, blankets and afghans for this family and their babies. Linda remembers these mountains and just about everything else! When she was small and all the older children had gone off to school, Linda found herself alone at home but she found a silent playmate, in the well. Looking down into the well pipe, she would talk, sing and whisper to her new playmate. The bad thing was, the child in the well would never respond back. That made Linda mad, so in return for the silence she’d spit on the silent playmate! She found she loved the sound spitting in the water made, so she’d spend all day spitting in the well! (an no one ever knew!)

Then Wanda came along. Her reputation in the family (especially to our mother) could be called the nurturing rebel. When the younger kids ran from mom, they all ran to Wanda. The two youngest boys in the family left home at a very early age, and it was to Wanda’s house that they took refuge. Same with me, I spent many weekends at Wanda’s house. (She let us get by with stuff Mom never would!) Wanda has a deathly fear of snakes, and I do mean deathly because she’d kill herself trying to get away from one! The house we lived in for many years had no bathroom, we grew up with an outhouse. When Wanda would enter, she’d always go in doing ‘a ‘stompin and a screamin’ dance to chase away snakes . One day she goes in, does her little dance, waits.... no snakes so she drops her pants and gets comfy. It was then that the snake decided to make his appearance…over the top of the door. She came out of there with a quickness, screaming and stompin just like she went in, running as fast as she could with her pants around her ankles!

Now we are down to Doyle.
I get to tell a lot on Doyle, because I’m going to end the story about the outhouse with the beginning of Doyle. When Wanda comes sprinting across the yard screaming, pants to her ankles, Doyle grabs the shotgun, runs down to the outhouse and proceeds to shoot the snake. "BOOM'.."BOOM". That was the year, we got air conditioning in the outhouse! When Doyle was young, there wasn’t a t-shirt in site that was safe. He’d chew them at the neckline till there was nothing left. Doyle is the entertainer. He sings, plays guitar, harmonica and probably a few other instruments I haven‘t mentioned. He can create funny songs and little ditties about people and especially his family out of his head in minutes. Doyle plays and sings in his home town now, and rides his Harley every chance he gets. I think he taught Wanda how to be a rebel. P.S. The snake got away!

Next on the scene was Darrell.
My mothers New Years delight born on Jan 1, the first baby born in the Stafford area for that year.
Darrell loves to entertain at home, on the grill or in his flower garden; you name it and pour the wine! He plays music too, guitar, mandolin and he may even pick up a banjo or a fiddle occasionally. The skeleton in Darrell’s closet is the “Great Garloo.” Now, if you don’t know what or who the Great Garloo is, take a look back to any 1961 toy advertisement and you’ll find him. He was a wired remote control ‘monster robot’ who looked like a cross between The Swamp Thing and a Samurai warrior right out of a Japanese horror film. When Darrell would go visit his Dad and older brother Roger, the Great Garloo would appear in Darrell’s closet. He’d come running every night, crying and screaming that the 'Great Garloo was in his closet and was going to eat him'!

Finally, last but not least was myself. Having to follow in the footsteps of all those listed above and a few not listed above was hard work, so I gathered a little bit of everyone into myself. Gardner, entertainer, crafter, musician, but as you can tell, I love to write.
When I was in about second grade or so we had a Christmas gift exchange at school and I received a ‘book of lifesavers’, I’m sure you’ve seen them before. By the time I got home though, I had none. My mom asked me where my present was and I told her I had lost it. This was my very first lie. Secretly that night, I told Doyle what had really happened to them. I had given them away and shared them one by one till they were gone. What did Doyle do? He wrote a ditty of a song about it, and sang it for everyone! No secret was safe in this family! I play guitar, or should say play at it. I learned when I was 12 but did not keep it up as my brothers have. I still join in once in a while though.

One woman is responsible for this rabble of people. Our Mother, Dorothy. She was a spitfire in her own right and didn’t put up with much from anyone, specially her kids!
She raised this wild group as best she could. She started the music tradition with us. She taught Jack the first three cords on a guitar and he took it from there and handed it down through the family. You've got to give it to the heart of mountain people. They can do what’s necessary even down to their entertainment. Whether it’s telling stories, eating mud pies or running from the Great Garloo, we are a family because of her.
This picture was taken just before our mother passed over. We remember her when we look into each others faces. Her words... harsh or soft, her laughter and her heart is in each one of us. And she was with us on this mountain.

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